


scratch at the door of the divine

by regencysnuffboxes (malicegeres)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Animals, Both Crowley and Aziraphale Being Bitches, Cats, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 04:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malicegeres/pseuds/regencysnuffboxes
Summary: Aziraphale finds a cat in the trash, and Crowley isn't happy.





	scratch at the door of the divine

**Author's Note:**

> Title suggested in an ask meme by Tumblr user carobelle, and the cat herself was inspired by my friend Renn's Discord shenanigans and her own terrible cat George.

Crowley parked in his usual (illegal) spot in front of the bookshop and got out, a bottle of wine and a bag of pastries from the Hungarian bakery around the corner from his flat. The plan was to have takeaway and a drink, and Aziraphale was partial to this particular bakery's hamantaschen so it would make for a nice surprise.

But then Crowley opened the door and got a surprise of his own.

There was a cat standing on top of the register. It was big, or—no, its hair was just huge. It was like muddy brown cloud with patches of orange and black throughout. Its eyes were a dirty brownish-green, and it was hissing.

Crowley hissed right back, which got Aziraphale's attention from the backroom.

"Oh, dear," he said as he poked his head out into the shop. "I see you've met Bosie."

He glared at him. " _Bosie_?" he repeated, exasperated.

"Well, she looks a bit like him, doesn't she? Not the coloring, of course, but the expression around the eyes."

Crowley raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well," said Aziraphale testily, "I find it amusing."

"So when's she going to the shelter, then?"

Aziraphale gasped and stood protectively in front of the register. "My dear boy, she's here to stay! I've called around to all the local shelters, no one's missing a cat of her description—"

"Yeah, I'm sure no one misses her," Crowley muttered under his breath.

"—and furthermore shelters are terrifying places for an animal, and the poor girl has already been through so much. I found her in the _bins_ , Crowley. She was filthy and cold and so terribly afraid. No, she'll be happier here with me."

"She hissed at me!"

He crossed his arms. "You hiss at me all the time, Crowley, and I keep you around."

He held up his bottle and his paper bag. "Because I make it damn well worth your while! I can't stay here when there's this—this _cat_ here. I'm a demon, animals hate me."

"They might not hate you if you didn't hiss like a snake at them."

"She hissed first! What was I meant to do, take it lying down?"

"It would be the most dignified course of action. You're an ancient, immortal avatar of evil; she's a cat."

"Yeah, you want to talk about an avatar of evil? She's got Bosie eyes, you said so yourself."

Behind Aziraphale, a guttural growl escaped the cat’s throat. The angel’s expression didn’t change. “You’re being ridiculous, my dear. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d quite like to get our order in. Does curry sound good to you?”

“Sure,” Crowley grumbled, taking his shades off and pocketing them. He started to follow Aziraphale back, but them Bosie launched herself onto him, digging her claws into the sleeves of his suit and then making a long, deep swipe at his face. She didn’t get Crowley’s eyes, but four parallel lines of pain now intersected his nose and his right cheek all the way down to his jawline. He yelped and tore her off him, holding her up by the scruff of her neck. “Aziraphale!” he called. 

Aziraphale poked his head out. “Yes?”

Crowley twisted his hand so that the cat was facing Aziraphale. She had a sour expression on her face, her wild fur puffed up like a porcupine’s quills. “Look what your stupid cat’s done to me!” He pointed at his face with his free hand. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Really, dearest, she’s more afraid of you than you are of her.”

“Ssssomehow I doubt that,” he grumbled. He dropped the cat to the floor, where she landed with a high-pitched grunt, and the scratches on his face knitted themselves together. 

To Crowley's irritation, Bosie was as good as gold during dinner. At least, she was to Aziraphale. She kept glaring at Crowley from her perch on the back of Aziraphale's chair, her tail twitching menacingly. And when Crowley finally relaxed and began to ignore her, she jumped on the table and stuck her nose into his vindaloo just long enough to lick it once and start gagging from the heat. Somehow, it was _Crowley_ who got scolded over this when he shouted at the cat for ruining the meal he'd barely had a chance to touch.

He didn't stay the night that night. Ordinarily he would have drifted off on Aziraphale's couch, usually around the time the angel decided to sit next to him after the meal. Eventually he'd have roused a bit, and they'd have talked and drank and headed up to Aziraphale's flat before sex or sleep or both, but Crowley was too on edge for any cuddling or drifting off. Instead, they finished up the meal and he went home and did a _thorough_ inspection of his plants.

The next day, he realized that he _was_ an ancient, immortal avatar of evil, and he'd let a bloody cat keep him from Aziraphale. It was ridiculous. He'd been there first, and he'd be there long after Bosie was gone. She was a lot like her namesake that way. It really was another point in favor of Crowley's faith in time and the benefits he could reap from it.

It wasn't that he was sorry for reacting so strongly to the unpleasant creature Aziraphale had fished out of the rubbish, but he loved Aziraphale and wanted to keep the stupid bastard in his life. However much Crowley felt he was in the right to resent him taking in an animal when he was well aware how animals tended to react to demons, there was a possibility that Aziraphale had perceived his perfectly reasonable emotional response to be 'immature' and 'obnoxious.' So, since it was a nice day, Crowley took a walk and swung through Chinatown on his way to Aziraphale's shop and picked up a nice variety of sweet buns and some cured fish for the cat to make it up to him.

Aziraphale was with a customer when he came in, and he looked like he was trying very hard to conceal his joy.

"I'm so terribly sorry about her," he was saying. "She's a rescue, poor lamb, and she really is quite sweet once you get to know her." He reached into his drawer and pulled out a box of plasters. "Now, I have got these for the bleeding, but you'd best get to A&E to have that looked at. You know how easily cat bites get infected."

Crowley situated himself quietly in the corner, watching the scene unfold. The cat was sat on the register next to a stack of books he just knew was too tall for Aziraphale's liking, and she was licking her paw contentedly. It had to be the first time Crowley had ever seen her without her tail twitching.

He approached the register after the customer left, opening the plastic bag and holding it out in front of him as a peace offering. "Hey, kitty," he said uncertainly. "Want some treats? Good kitty. Nice kitty. Kitty wants the fish, yeah? Tasty fish."

The cat stared at him distrustfully. Her tail started twitching, and she was staring at him through her thin pupils.

"Oh, come on," Crowley sighed, pulling his hand back lest Bosie give in to bloodlust yet again.

Aziraphale chuckled and took the bag from him. "It was sweet of you to try, my dear," he said, placing a bit of fish in front of her. She devoured it eagerly.

Behind his sunglasses, Crowley rolled his eyes. "Don't rub it in. Lunch? My treat."

The angel kissed his cheek. "Let me just lock up."

Lunch was followed by dessert back at the shop, courtesy of Crowley, and then day-drinking that transitioned smoothly into night-drinking. The cat stalked about, watching Crowley the entire time and hissing every time he moved anywhere near her, but then something miraculous happened: she began to ignore him. Eventually, they both felt comfortable enough that Crowley fell asleep on the sofa against Aziraphale. 

When he woke up, Aziraphale had taken a book in his arms, and there was something warm and soft lying against his leg. It was purring.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [crowleyraejepsen](https://crowleyraejepsen.tumblr.com)!


End file.
